


Sauron amoung the Noldor

by nelyonelyo



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Murder, Torture, Violence, and all sorta of sauron-y shit, not all of this is gonna be dark, this is of course sauron so, we're gonna have some fun chapters too, will add more characters as they show up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 09:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13455483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nelyonelyo/pseuds/nelyonelyo
Summary: So,  semi-crack AU idea. What if Angband knew Fingon was coming, and instead of letting him recover Maedhros, hung up a spy for him to take back into the Noldor camps? Have him unknowingly sneak some not-maedhros person back in. Someone who can there bring the Noldor to ruin for Melkor. Someone like Sauron himself, a known shapeshifter and prolific faker.Most of it's been planned out already via convos with my friends, but I won't be updating until I finish "Maedhros in Doriath"Note: this fic has some art drawn for it! Links are in notes.Note2: This was a crack idea my friends used to like, but they no longer like it so I've dropped it. Will add more chapters when there is a demand for it, maybe.





	1. Exposition

Sauron walked up to the throne of Melkor, the metal soles of his boots clicking against the stone floor, dragging an elf.

Melkor looked to the maia and, with a grumble deep as stone, posed him a question. “What is this that you have brought me?”

He kicked the elf forward with a satisfied smile. “Tell him.”

The elf scrambled back behind the maia, cowering before the eyes of Morgoth, and could not find the power to speak. With a disgusted sigh, Sauron lifted him up and, with a stroke of his finger, cut a bleeding rift into his neck. He released the elf, leaving him to writhe and wither on the ground as blood and life poured out of him. The cruel act gave him a small rush of pleasure.

“This is what you wished to show me, Mairon?”

“No, my lord. I had hoped for his cooperation, and I make deep amends that he did not fulfill his role. You do tend to have quite an intimidating effect on the Eldar.” Melkor smiled at this remark. He did enjoy flattery. Sauron continued. “We captured him outside the new Noldor encampment today. He claimed to be a close associate of the elf they call Findekano.”

“Who is Findekano, Mairon. I do not follow the gossips of the Eldar.”

“Findekano,” he clarified, “is the elf whose name our Maitimo so often calls. He is the son of Nolofinwe and nephew to Curufinwe Feanaro.”

“And what is the value of this elf’s association to him?”

“Findekano confided in him about a future proposition. He plans to ride to this fortress and seek out Maitimo. A _rescue_ in intent.”

Melkor smirked. “Are you telling me you want him? What plan do you have devised for this new prince?”

“My lord, he offers us no information further than what we have already obtained through the other Noldor.”

“Do not pretend you only toy with them for the sake of interrogation, lieutenant. I know you far better than that. What is it that you press at with this?”

“Assume he did come for a rescue. Assume we command the orcs to let him may his journey here safely. If he reached Maitimo, surely he would fetch him. Now, my lord, I do not suggest that we let Maitimo himself return to the Noldor. Rather, a spy in his place.”

At this, the vala smiled fondly. “Always new ideas with you. Do continue. Who is this spy you speak of?”

“Why, myself. I am your most proficient formchanger. I have spent more time with Maitimo than any of the others here. I know each inch of his skin, each tint of his accent, each jerk of his body. I am confident in my abilities to replicate him. I have heard him ramble about the House of Finwe. I have heard the names he shouts in his agony and in his pleasure. I can become him.”

“Mairon,” he cooed, “if Findekano snatches you from Thangorodrim, then who will I have here as my lieutenant?”  
“Surely Angband will not fall to chaos in my brief absence.”

“Oh, but Mairon, I might...”

“My lord, if a red-haired lieutenant can take the position of an elf, perhaps a red-haired elf can take the position of a lieutenant.”

Melkor nodded slowly in ponderous approval.

Mairon walked up close to him, and gave a kneeling bow at the foot of his throne. “My lord, I shall end the Noldor. I will convert them to you if I can, kill them if I must.”

“Kill them as freely as you please. Indulge yourself.”

Mairon stifled a smile. “My lord you know that may not always be practical. I may arouse suspicion.”

“Of course you wouldn’t want to arouse anything.”

“My lord…”

“Yes. Mairon, you are a brilliance upon this fortress as always. I give you my good will on this venture. If it collapses on you, my balrogs are only a shout away. I know this will be a delight for you. But do hurry. I am growing tired of the Noldor, and would have them eliminated from these lands before they disrupt my forces further.”

“Yes my lord.”

“I have a further request, Mairon. Bring me the rest of Feanoro’s creations. Do not kill them. I want him to watch from the Halls as I lay ruin to each of them in turn.”

Mairon smiled. “I would delight in that.”

“I know. How many days do you estimate it will take this Findekano to begin his exploration of the Thangorodrim?”

“One. Perhaps two.”

“Then we shall spend them wisely.”

“Yes, my lord.”


	2. Rescue

Maedhros was not dead. Fingon was sure of it. He was not dead. He could feel it. And, so, he had set out to find him.

“Nelyo?” he yelled across the igneous cliffs. “Nelyo!?”

“Yes, Finno?” came a smooth voice from above. 

Fingon looked up to see the form of his best friend sitting upon a ledge only a few yards above him. He could have sworn there was no one there moments ago. Quickly he scrambled up to him. He screamed again, less in question and more in exclamation. “Nelyo!  _ Nelyo _ oh Eru oh fuck, fuck, Eru, fuck...I...I don’t know what to say...I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner…”

“Everyone makes mistakes,  _ Finno _ ,” Sauron declared, pleased with himself that he remembered the familial name Maitimo had used when mentioning his cousin.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry...I...Nelyo oh Eru are you alright?” he ran his eyes over Sauron’s body. “They haven’t hurt you?”

“Yes. And no, actually. Melkor and Sauron are quite reasonable. I merely spoke to them as a gentleman would, and they refrained from having to torment me. But alas!” he declared, with a slight swish of his hair, “I am still a prisoner of these dreadful halls! Free me, Finno!”

Fingon began to cry, “Nelyo I’m so glad I was so fucking worried, I heard stories, I heard what Morgoth had been doing, I’ve had nightmares ever since I’ve...Nelyo...it’s been like I’ve heard you screaming, when I dream, I have seen visions of you, under blades and fire, and...I...I’m so sorry I couldn’t get here sooner...I have so much to tell you Nelyo our people are kin, we crossed Helcaraxe and-”

“Oh, dreadful. I would much prefer to talk this over in the comfort of our own realm and far from this land. Please, cut the bonds on my wrists, they are merely rope and should not be to difficult.”

“Of course…” Fingon removed a small blade from its hilt on his belt and, despite his shaking hands, cut Sauron free. “Of course Nelyo. Are your hands alright?” He reached his own hand towards Sauron’s. It was as much a gesture of reassurance as it was an attempt to check for injury.

“Yes they’re alright. Do you think mere rope would hurt me? Am I not Nelyafinwe King of the Noldor?”

“I’m sorry. I expected you to be sorely hurt.”

“I’m not. Expect something else.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Good. Do you have a horse for me to ride?”

“Yes, but it cannot bear both of us.”

“Did I say ‘a horse for both of us to ride,’ Finno?”

“No.”

“Correct. I am the one who had to endure Angband these years. I get the horse.”

“Of course, I’m sorry.”

Sauron descended from the slight ledge and mounted the horse. Fingon walked alongside him.

“I love you, Nelyo” he offered quietly. 

“You’re welcome.”

As they paced onwards in silence, Fingon found confusion in his mind. Maedhros had never acted in such a way. There was more. His eyes glowed a little too brightly. He climbed down the ledge with inhuman skill, like a spider would. Most importantly, his fea felt different.

“You’ve changed, Nelyo.”

“I’ve been in Angband,  _ Finno _ . A fortress under the rule of Melkor and Mairon, the lords who created orcs, dragons, and ice all alike. Did you really expect me to remain unchanged? Under such forces? Did you expect a stay in the presence of the two strongest ainur to leave me unaltered, unedited?”

“What’s a dragon?”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes. You’ve changed. I understand. I’m sorry.”

“I’m still your Nelyo.”

Fingon grinned softly. “I’m your Finno.”

“Good.”

As they continued further, with an abundance of silence between them and road ahead, Sauron took the opportunity to examine Fingon. He was short, shorter than Maitimo’s form. Maitimo had been tall for an elf. Was Fingon short for an elf, or simply the average height of a Noldo? He did not care. His shoulders were broadly set. Sauron wished his shirt was off, so he could examine the muscle structure himself. How fine those shoulders were. His face did not inspire Sauron in the least. His cheekbones were not as prominent as Maitimo’s, nor was his nose. His hair was satisfactory in color and sheen, but he could not speak as to the quality of its texture as its entirety was bound into a series of small golden-weave braids. He did not like the style. It reminded him of snakes and was terribly unflattering in his opinion. As they walked even further, the swishing of those tendrils bothered him further. What an awful way to wear hair, bound up. An elf’s hair should hang free. How could one run their fingers through such hair?

“Remove your braids.”

“Excuse me?”

“I do not like them.”

“I like them. It’s far too frizzy without them.”

“I do not like them” Sauron insisted.

“Nelyo, you are tired. Try to get some rest. You’ve always loved my braids. It was you who first styled my hair like this. You aren’t thinking right.”

Sauron glared at Fingon. It was not yet time, he decided, to push at him and test him. He returned to his silence. They walked further. This time, it was Fingon who began a conversation after a long period of blank noise. 

“Your family is alright. None of your brothers have died in your absence.”

“And Tyelpe?”

“Young Tyelpe is alive as well.”

He was exceedingly pleased to hear this. Melkor, he decided, would be just as glad. Each of the Feanorians was still up for the taking. “And your family, are they alright?”

“Elenwe passed on the ice. The rest of us are fully intact.”

“I have heard that ice can preserve bodies for thousands of years. Especially that of elves. I saw such things in Angband. An elf can be placed in ice and their hroa is kept from dissolving under the pressures of time. It rests there, death still struck upon its face, an unchanging display of the fade from life’s vitality to death’s hands.”

“Please do not speak of such horrid things.”

“It is not horrid. It is beautiful, in the most morbid way. The maia Mairon has the walls of his chambers lined with such art. Do not mourn Elenwe. She has merely become another monument of nature’s resistance to time.”

“Nelyo. Stop. Please. I do not want these thoughts! Please! She is no trophy. She is my brother’s wife.”

“Was.”

The tears began to reappear in his eyes. “Please. I have suffered enough. Why do you speak like this?”

“...Angband.”

Fingon wept. “I do not like what Angband has made of you.”

Sauron extended a hand towards Fingon and laid it upon his shoulder. He was cold. “Finno, do you tell me you can no longer find love for me? Not after I spent all these years shouting your name at my moments of need? I have missed you more than you know. I love you plenty. He said- I mean I, I say you are the stars of my unlit sky.” With the same hand he scooped a tear from Fingon’s chin with surgical precision. He rubbed it between his fingers as he continued to speak. “Treasure me, Finno, as I treasure you.”

“Of course.”


	3. Lieutenant!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maedhros is stuck taking Mairon's role

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://artbyvampiraptor.tumblr.com/post/170100851486/well-you-were-warned-based-on-this-horrible-au
> 
> Art for the chapter, courtesy of vampiraptor!

Maedhros had arrayed himself in the garments of Mairon. High black boots of an odd yet surprisingly breathable fabric and gloves to match. A bare chest with several layers of gold jewelry draping over it. A few strips of fabric covered his nudity, and on top of that he wore an odd floor length skirt of sorts. It had two slits in the sides, leaving his legs open to display, but completely covered him from behind. The ensemble was quite comfortable. Sauron had only been half a foot or so taller than him, so the fit was not too off. Surprisingly they shared a shoe size. To finish the look, he took the red paint and traced it around his eyes, just as Sauron wore. He took up the pair of long gold-and-black earrings and fastened them to his earlobes. He brushed his hair flat, straightened it with the aid of a hot iron, and smoothed it with some fine scented oil he had seen Sauron use for the purpose. There was a jar of some thick, foul-smelling white cream Sauron also used for conditioning his hair, but Maedhros could not find it. He rubbed a second vial of some other oil over himself, softening his skin and giving off a fair scent. 

The maia had left this outfit, his favorite, behind on his venture off to where Maedhros knew not. Melkor had requested that he put it on. He was to dress and ready himself just as Mairon had. He was to look as Mairon had.

Turning to the mirror, he surveyed himself. He was astonished how similar to the maia he looked. His face was different, his voice was different, his hair was a little more red, and he did not have the same yellowed eyes, but to an unfamiliar eye he could very well pass as Mairon. It alarmed him, almost, how closely he resembled him. As close as his brother Curufinwe resembled Feanaro. He paced back and forth by the mirror, trying to mimic the maia’s unique gait. He was not sure if Melkor would pay attention to that level of detail, but he feared disappointing him anyways. 

After a few hours time, he emerged from the chambers and returned to Melkor’s throne room.

“I have dressed myself, master.”

Melkor looked at him and immediately grinned. “Perfect. You look just like him.”

“Thank you master.”

“Not master. Say ‘my lord.’ Mairon always says ‘my lord’ instead. Never master.”

“I am to speak as he does, ma- my lord?”

“You are not to use words that he doesn't.”

“Understood.”

“And I shall address you as Mairon. The orcs shall address you as Mairon, for they will not know the different. You will sit in his chair and wear his clothes. For all purposes, you are Mairon in his absence.”

“I am Mairon?”

“Yes.”

Maedhros considered the prospect. He understood none of its purpose, aside from that it was commanded of him. Perhaps he could ask. “My lord, what is this for?”

“You do not need to know.”

“Is this so you can fuck me and picture him in my place?” It was a bold question, but it had been on Maedhros’s mind the entire while, and he so strongly needed an answer.

Melkor stared at him in disgust. 

“That’s a yes, isn’t it?” Maedhros continued.

“No. Do not assume things from me, Maiti- Mairon.”

“This is terribly odd. What else would it be for?”

Melkor wanted to explain the answer. He wanted to brag on how genius his lieutenant had been, of his plan to infiltrate the Noldor, and how the mission depended on such high secrecy that he could not let anyone in Angband know of Sauron’s absence. But he did not trust the elf enough to explain this. 

“It’s for plenty of things, Mairon. I need not explain my decisions.”

“You explain them to Mairon, and am I not Mairon  _ for all purposes _ ?” 

Melkor grinned at how Mairon-like such a question was. Maedhros was catching on quickly. “Yes and no.  _ Mairon _ already knows how the operations of Angband, and does not need to be reminded of any confidential information.” 

“I’ve never had to wear so much costume. There is more behind this. What am I being tasked to do.” Maedhros asked in fear. 

Melkor pointed to a Sauron’s desk in the left hand corner of the throne room. “Sit there and fill out the papers, as Mairon does.”

“You wish for me to do paperwork?”

“Yes. As Mairon does.”

“And how does Mairon do it?”

“You’ve been at his desk plenty.”

“I’ve been bent over his desk plenty. I’ve never sat behind it.”

“Mairon does his paperwork very well. He occasionally looks up at me and bites his lip.”

“You want me to bite my lip?”

“And do paperwork. Well.”

“How do you expect me to do Angband’s paperwork?”

“Please. You have been here for decades. You know how the system runs. If that is not enough motivation, remember the hammer I keep with me.”

“So this  _ is _ a sex thing?”

“No. Grond. The actual hammer. I will strike you with it.”

“My lord, I am getting very mixed messages here. Do I prepare myself or not.”

“Sit at the damn desk and do the paperwork. That is all. Everyone who walks in here must think Mairon is simply at his desk, doing the papers. Do the papers. All day.”

Maedhros, relieved, took his seat at the desk. He did indeed find a thick stack of parchment forms atop it, written in tengwar and the Utumno-dialect of the Valar’s tongue he had come to understand during his years at Angband. The forms themselves were of no specialty- simply signed command forms for troop deployment and formation. No movements he was not always aware of. However odd it may be, this task was so far one of his favorites at Angband. No disruptions. No orcs. A bath, clean clothes, and a job at a desk filling out orderly papers. He quite loved it. It was a simple task, one he could fulfill entirely and avoid any punishment. He had not had such peace in a while.

Melkor, likewise, was very pleased with the arrangement. As much as he loved chaos, he could not help but feel disquieted whenever Mairon was not present. True, the elf was not Mairon, but he was one of the few creatures of Angband who did not cower before him. He was fair, resilient, and brave. He could play the role better than any other. He was truly a son of Feanor- he had never lost his fire- and for that he was just as good as Mairon. Melkor would never have tolerated his manner of speaking, had he been a simple elf. But he spoke so much like the lieutenant...he could not possibly punish him for fulfilling the role so well. He watched as Maedhros worked so steadily. He did not slack at his task. He never did. For this, he was Melkor’s favorite slave. Maedhros did everything with such intensity, whether driven by fear or passion. He was too absorbed in his work to remember to bite his lip occasionally, but Melkor did not mind. He picked up on other small fidgets the elf did. He tapped his fingers against the desk while focusing. That sufficed as a quirk to watch. And so they continued, one working and one watching, for hours. 

An orc captain walked in and kneeled before Melkor. “My lord, an elf attempted a rebellion.”

“How successful was it, Grackshuk?”

“Unsuccessful. He merely shouted ‘Rebel! Rebel!’ at his fellow slaves. They ignored him. He struck an orc, but they received no injury from the weak blow.”

“Do you have this elf?”

The orc shouted something coarse, and a second orc emerged through the door, dragging a young elf by her hair. Despite her hands and feet being bound, she was screaming and thrashing all the while. 

“Noldor?” Melkor asked, seeing her fight.

“Obviously” replied the orc. “What is to be done with her?”

Melkor turned to look at Maedhros. He had paused his work to look at the elf in horror. “I think,” Melkor declared smoothly, “we should leave her punishment to Mairon.”

Maedhros looked up at Melkor in shock.

“Mairon, come. You decide. What shall be done of this elf?”

The elf thrashed more and successfully lurched towards the orc. She bit his finger. He recoiled and shouted something in orcish. “Lord Mairon! Shall we feed her to the wolves?”

Maedhros looked upon her in pity. She was unscarred and her fea undimmed. Surely she had not been here long. Could he risk mercy? If Melkor did not approve of his lightness, would he step in and take his own course of action? Would he himself be punished for misjudgment? What would Mairon do in this situation? How could he get her away from Melkor and this Orc?

“Put her in my chambers.” 

Melkor looked at Maedhros with curiosity.

“Yes, lord Mairon.” the orc replied, and hurried back off with the elf. 

Once the two were alone again, Melkor spoke. “Your chambers, Mairon?”

“Is it not typical of me to bring elves there?”

“It is most typical indeed.” Melkor knew well of his lieutenant’s habits, but was surprised how rapidly Maedhros had taken to them. 

“Then there should be no question about it.” He resumed his work and Melkor resumed his staring. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Maedhros returned to his chambers. Or, well, Sauron’s. They did belong to him, however, in the maia’s absence. He went immediately to the small room in the back where he knew Sauron kept elves. There, as he commanded, was the elf. She was chained to the floor. 

He quickly returned to the bedchambers, pulled the top blanket off the bed, and returned with it to the room. “Here,” he said to her, handing her the blanket. “You might want this.”

She did not accept it, instead opting to stream Quenyan profanities laced with hisses at him.

“Lady, I am not a maia. I am not the lieutenant of of the dark one. I am Nelyafinwe, son of Feanaro. Surely you have heard of him. I am not here to torment you.”

“You resemble him only in your hair.”

“I am him, I promise you.”

“Morgoth’s maia is known for lies. I am no idiot.”

Maedhros sighed. He did not wish to spend time convincing her otherwise. “I do not care if you believe me, that is who I am. You are new here, I can tell, and you should return to your people. I know the exit to this place. Do you wish to leave?”

“That’s a trick, you bastard.”

Maedhros undid her chains. “There. Keep the blanket. You had best not be naked around orcs. Come.” He extended his hand to her in an effort to help her stand. She did not take it and stood fine on her own.

He gestured for her to follow and walked back to the door of the chamber. “This may get you killed, but if you do not follow this plan, you will die regardless. Understood? I may be able to command orcs. I am not sure. We can try.” He exited, with her following along closely behind him, and made his way to the lodgings of the previous orc captain. 

“Grackshuk!” he yelled as he knocked. Sure enough, the orc answered. “Grackshuk. Take this elf to the company fifteenth-west.” He had remembered from his paperwork how fifteenth-west was tasked with a charting voyage southward. “Have them deposit her in the wilderness of their southernmost point.” Surely, the Noldor would find them along the way. Perhaps she would escape. Either way, the farther from Angband she could be, the better. 

“Yes lord Mairon.”

“One more thing. She is…she...I will be watching. If anyone so much as touches her, they will feel pain untold. Understood?”

“Yes lord Mairon.”

The elf looked at him and seemed to understand. Maedhros nodded at her. “Ensure her well being. It is essential.”

“Yes lord Mairon.”

Satisfied with these commands, Maedhros left and returned to his chambers. He hoped no one would notice the missing blanket. Had his directions to the orc really taken hold? He hoped so. Perhaps, if they proved successful, he would try it again, he resolved. 

At his door was another orc. 

“Lord Mairon!” they shouted.

“Yes? Yes what is it?” 

“Lord Melkor requests you at his chambers!”

“Please, you don’t need to shout. I understand. Thank you for relaying the message.

At this, the orc scurried off. Maedhros continued onwards to the chambers of Melkor.

He arrived at their gate and knocked. A Balrog opened it and watched him so carefully as he entered. This was not his first time there. The black ceiling was as imposingly high as always, the same slightly sticky floor lay underfoot. In the final room, spread across a large mound of wolf-pelt blankets, was Melkor himself.

“You summoned me, my Lord?”

“Mairon, you do not call me ‘my Lord’ here. Simply Melkor will do.”

“Melkor.”

“Yes.”

Maedhros looked around the room. It smelled as awful as always. “I knew this was coming. I have to admit, having me read and scribe papers for the better part of the day has to be the oddest foreplay you’ve ever thought up.”

“That was not play. Those papers sincerely needed completion.”

“I feel poorly for Mairon.”

“Mairon is you, remember that. And do not feel poorly for him. I treat him quite well. Did I not grant you an elf? Surely that was enough to ready yourself with.”

Maedhros frowned at him.

“Do not frown Mairon. Is something wrong?”

“I would rather be finishing the papers right now.”

Melkor laughed loudly, loud enough to slightly startle Maedhros. “Of course! Of course you do! Mairon would say the same thing!” he continued laughing. “He would, of course, always change his mind by about how however.”

“I have not changed my mind.”

“Do you wish to be Mairon or not?”

“How could I wish to be something I already am?” Maedhros said with a contrived smirk. He wished to leave. Immediately. This wish however was overridden by the far more intense fear of what Melkor was capable of. Surely he could not deny him, or Melkor could take him himself. Could he leave? Or, more importantly, could  _ Mairon _ leave?  _ Did _ Mairon ever leave? He wished to try it. “What I also am, however, is tired. I shall retire to my chambers.”

“Nonsense,  _ Mairon _ , you never tire so early. You are always so eager to join me here.”

Maedhros intended to strike a bargain. “I have indeed tired, but if you do not wish for me to go, perhaps I can simply sleep here.”

Melkor pondered the idea. He craved the simple presence of Mairon, and thus simple presence would suffice. Currently. 

Maedhros angrily laid himself down on the pelt-blanket pile, as far from Melkor as he could. He curled himself up tight and covered himself under a few of them. Perhaps he could fall asleep. To his surprise, Melkor began to talk blankly. 

“I got into a spat with one of the Balrogs today. He wished to be granted a new post, as he found the current one dull. I don’t care if he finds his post dull! I designated him to that post for a reason! Balrogs are so talented, but even they can be a pain. What do you think Mairon?”

Maedhros buried himself further into the blankets and tried to sleep.

“Mairon!”

“Mmph. Balrogs can be horrid.”

“I know!” satisfied with this answer, Melkor continued. “Another maia, one of the new recruits from Irmo, likewise had a feud recently. He wanted a natural window for sunlight access. Does he not understand that there is no sunlight? I explained to him how the cloud blocks it all, and that the artificial light I provided should be enough. But he did not listen! He merely argued onwards and onwards!”

“What did you do?” If Maedhros had to be a part of this conversation, he at least wanted it to be interesting.

“I pushed him out a window and told him to check for sunlight!”

“Is he injured?”

“Absolutely!” Melkor declared proudly. 

Maedhros decided it would be best for ‘Mairon’ to add something at this point, but he had no stories. “Oh, that elf I had over today.”

“Did you enjoy her?” 

“Oh, absolutely. I cut her fingers off, one by one. She yelled so...nicely.”

Melkor grinned. Maedhros was relieved to know his fabrication seemed Mairon-enough.

“Yes, yes,” he continued. “And after I cut her fingers off, I took a long blade and split the thighs of her legs open. She bled out. The orcs disposed of her body.”

“Did you fuck her?”

“No! Of course not!” Maedhros shouted in disgust. He then realized how horridly un-Mairon such a thing would be. He quickly amended this. “She simply is not my type. Too…” What did Mairon dislike in an elf? “Short. Too short.” He decided this seemed a logical factor.

Melkor began his deep, long laugh again. “You always say that, Mairon! I had not noticed how short she was, when she was kicking like that on the ground. Shame. I will make sure we send a taller elf your way next.”

“Yes. A taller elf. That would be perfect.”

“That reminds me,” Melkor continued. “Of this absurdly tall orc I encountered today. I swear, Mairon, he was nearly ten feet tall. Did you know we had those? I have not seen one that past eight or so before.”

“I have not seen orcs so large either. Perhaps the maiar managing the expansion of yo- our armies have been selecting the program differently. I shall consult with them.”

“Good. I do not want them so tall. I designed them perfectly when we made them in Utumno.”

“I shall make sure they do not breed anymore Tall Orcs.” Maedhros was unaware that there had been orcs created so large. Was he to actually consult with the maiar of that department? Perhaps he could tell them to make the orcs smaller and thinner. Yes. Weaker orcs would be nice. He did have that power, he reminded himself, to relay such instructions. 

“Flawless, I made them! So repugnant to look at, yes, but far stronger than the Eldar. I once saw an orc crush an elvish skull with merely her finger! Could an elf do that? Never! Eru claims he had perfected life, but clearly his vision was lacking. Elves are functional, but orcs are so far preferable for fights.”

“Absolutely, Melkor.”

Maedhros listened to Melkor ramble on in praise of his creation for hours. Truly he was proud. Mairon listened attentively, making sure to speak affirmations when cued and avoid any wrath-inducing midsteps. As the hours went by, Melkor’s breathing steadied and slowed until he fell asleep. At the sight of this, Maedhros quickly left the room and returned to his chambers. 

The day was far from relaxing, but he rather prefered living as Mairon, Lieutenant of Angband, rather than Maitimo, slave. He had not been hurt once. He could quite easily get used to such a job.  


End file.
